A First Time For Everything
by some1lostme
Summary: She was hesitant at first. He'd given her no reason to trust him. But she was so glad that she did. GSR.


**Title:** A First Time for Everything

**Category:** Romance (FLUFF, Pure 100 FLUFF!)

**Pairings:** Grissom/Sara

**Rating:** PG-13 to R

**Summary:** Grissom and Sara go on their first date… oh come on, I know it's been done, but read it anyway!

**Disclaimer:** Well, as has been assessed many times, I am merely a college co-ed who owns nothing but my self-respect… which I'm actually running low on at the moment. Don't sue me.

A date. A real date. Their first date. It had only taken fifteen years, but suddenly the day was upon them and Sara was nervous. Nervous about going on a date with a man she'd known for nearly half of her life. It was stupid really, the way her subconscious was making her act like an idiot and forget things with a swarm of butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

The doorbell rang. Sara froze in the hall, halting her path back to her bedroom to change her outfit for the fifth time. She swore under her breath and glanced at her watch. Leave it to Grissom to be exactly on time when she only needed sixty seconds more. She turned on her heel and went to answer the door, impatient hands smoothing the fabric of her dress as she went.

His invitation had come as a surprise.

They had been working a homicide in Henderson. When they finally finished their initial collection at the scene, after nine hours on hands and knees scouring the victims home, they climbed into Grissom's Tahoe in exhaustion and headed in the direction of home. It was then, in the silence of the car, that Grissom had turned to her.

_"Sara?"_

_"Hmm?" She didn't lift her head from where it rested against her window and she kept her brown eyes shut._

_"Have-" he took a breath "-Have dinner with me."_

_Short, sweet and to the point. Sara opened one eye to stare at him for a moment before saying, "Excuse me?" with much less sleep in her voice._

_"Have dinner with me," he said again, adding a quiet "Please" as an afterthought._

_Sara raised an eyebrow at him as she sat up in her seat. He smiled at her and shrugged._

_"Tonight, before shift," he told her, "I'd like to have dinner with you."_

_She didn't say anything for a moment but he could tell by her sudden change in posture that she was contemplating screwing with his head and turning him down, as payback for him doing the exact same thing to her. She crossed her arms over her chest defensively._

_"Why?" she asked, her voice laced with a hint of anger._

_Grissom sighed and closed his eyes. She had every right to ask and he had known that she would. But he still didn't know what to tell her. Something had occurred to him a few days before, something out of thin air, like an epiphany: He didn't want to live any longer without Sara Sidle in his life._

_"Because-" he began "-Because maybe I finally know what to do about this."_

Sara opened the door slowly, stepping back to allow Grissom to come into her apartment and allowing herself a few more moments to catch her breath as it was suddenly gone at the sight of him.

He was dressed in his court suit, the one she'd seen him where on more than one occasion. It was blue, a deep navy that made his beautiful eyes stand out even more. The cut looked incredible on him and it was buttoned only once, covering up the light grey dress shirt he wore underneath. God, was that her heartbeat she could here?

"Hi," she said quietly, suddenly remembering that she should probably speak. Why the hell did she feel so awkward?

"You look amazing," was his response, and he leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to her cheek.

Sara blushed, smoothing the fabric of her dress again and wishing she hadn't chose this one. It had been an impulse buy, something she'd picked up with no event in mind. She had never imagined that she would look good in burgundy, but this dress- this dress- made her feel incredible. It was made of silk, something light and feminine that she hadn't been accustomed to wearing, but she loved the feel of it against her skin. It was sleeveless, which had lead her to pull on her leather jacket and the hemline fell an inch or two short of her knees, and she'd paired it with a pair of black leather, knee-high boots. She hadn't been sure at first, but by the look in Grissom's eyes, she looked just right.

"Thank you," she said, still somewhat astounded by the softness of her own voice, "You don't look so bad yourself."

Grissom blushed then and for a moment neither of them said a word. Standing there in her living room was incredibly awkward so Sara took the first step, linking her arm with his and dragging him into the hallway.

"So," she asked, "Where exactly are you taking me Grissom?"

They had arrived at the restaurant in good time, a few minutes before their reservation, after another awkward ride in Grissom's car.

Once they had been seated, Sara having removed her jacket and Grissom having removed his as well, they silence had taken over again. Sara fiddled with the stem of her wine glass, not sure exactly what she was supposed to say. They had known each other for so long and they already knew so much about each other, what the hell where they supposed to talk about on their first date?

"Please say something," she demanded suddenly, causing Grissom's head to snap up, "I can't take this silence."

"What do you want me to say, Sara?" he asked, "It's not like we've never met. I know you. You know me. I don't know what to say. This is… awkward to say the least."

Sara shook her head, looking down at her menu, "I was just thinking the same thing. So, maybe, we need to pretend."

"Excuse me?"

"You know, act like we haven't met," she explained.

He raised an eyebrow at her then, "Sara, I don't thin-"

"So, Gil, what exactly is it you do?" she asked then, not giving him a chance to argue, "I mean, Catherine told me that you worked for the police department, but she didn't give me any real details."

She smiled at him, waiting for a response. For a moment, she simply watched him deal with the inner struggle of whether or not he was going to play along, but it seemed his curiosity got the better of him when he laughed and raised an eyebrow at her.

"Are you suggesting that Catherine set us up?" he asked.

Sara shrugged, somewhat relieved that he was going for this, "It's only logical. I mean, she's not romantically interested in you- or me, for that matter- and she's definitely the matchmaker type. This is Catherine we're talking about."

"You don't think Warrick or Nick would've set us up?" he asked, flashing her the dimples she hadn't seen in so long.

She shook her head, "Not a chance in hell. Even though Nick looks up to you, and you and he are such good friends, he's definitely got that big brother complex going on. He would never let his little sister date someone so…"

"Emotionally unavailable?" he supplied and Sara blushed.

"That's not what I was going for, but I suppose it works.

He nodded, "You're right. I can't see him letting you go. And Warrick just doesn't seem the type."

"Definitely not," she said, sipping her wine.

She put her glass down, still fiddling with the stem as she stared down at the table cloth.

"So, Gil, what is it that you do for a living?"

And so it went on that way, the two of them existing in that moment as though the dinner they were sharing was really the first and only meal they'd ever shared. Sara smiled and listened with rapt attention as Grissom explained each detail of his job with enthusiasm. She laughed at his bug jokes as though she'd never heard them before. He caressed the back of her hand where it lay between them on the table. He smiled at her and replied politely when she asked questions that he knew she already knew the answers to. They were having fun, enjoying each others company. Just like they had some fifteen years ago when they really had met for the first time.

"So, Sara, you never did tell me how you and Catherine met," Grissom said, sipping his red wine as their waiter cleared away the dinnerware.

Sara smirked, waiting for the waiter to leaving before replying, "Well, I suppose you know that Catherine used to be an exotic dancer-"

Grissom choked on his wine and Sara felt her face flush as she tried not to laugh.

"You- You're a dancer?" he asked, a bright blush rising under his beard.

Sara nodded discreetly, "Is that a problem?"

"Well no, not really," Grissom said, slipping back into a somewhat comfortable revere, "I mean, is there a reason you're in that situation?"  
Sara shrugged, "Same as Catherine, I guess, it paid for college."

"Hmm," Grissom said, sipping his wine again, "Where did you go?"

Sara smiled, her grin wide.

"Harvard-" Grissom grinned at that "-I, uh, I was a Physics major."

"Really? Physics?"

"Yes, really, you seem surprised," Sara said, her perfectly shaped eyebrow going up in a look mirroring his own.

He flashed her another grin and shrugged a little, "It did surprise me, you know, finding out that you were a Physics major. You didn't seem the type."

"Really? And what type, exactly, did you stick me for?" Sara asked.

"I thought, before you and I spoke that first time, that you were more of a literary type," he explained, taking another slow sip of his wine, "I thought for sure you were a Journalism major, or English maybe, but I would never have figured you for a Physics major, or any of the sciences for that matter."

Sara laughed, the first time he'd heard that sound in so long, "Oh god, I hated English! I was terrible at it and it was just so- so boring."

Grissom smiled at her, gradually feeling the effects of the wine he'd been drinking. He was starting to feel a little light headed and warm. Neither of them spoke for a moment and Sara stared down into her water glass. It was going well. Their date, their conversation, all of it. It was going much better than she had expected.

"Tell me about your family," Sara said softly, knowing somewhere in the back of her head that, by asking, she was giving him permission to do the same.

"Hmm, well, I'm an only child, raised by my mother after my father left," he explained, "I was nearly eight when he told my mother he wanted out."

"I'm sorry," Sara said sincerely, "That must've been horrible."

"It was at first, but I learned to cope with it," he shrugged, "My mother was deaf, Sara. A disease called otosclerosis. Basically, it creats a bony growth on the inner eardrum that eventually causes complete hearing loss."

Sara's jaw had gone slack and their were tears in his eyes. Realization flooded over her as she remembered how he had seemed to be fading out on the team, pulling back, only to disappear for a couple of weeks after Lockwood's death. When he'd returned, he had seemed to recover from whatever had been bothering him. She jumped slightly, feeling his hand slide over hers and squeezing it gently. She looked up at him then, a few tears sliding down her cheeks.

"It's all right, honey. She learned to live with it and so did I," he said softly, "My childhood was as normal as anyone could've hoped for… Well, except for the occasional animal autopsy that took place in the basement."

Sara laughed then and wiped at her eyes.

"Oh I'm sure you're mother loved that," she said, smiling for him.

"Loved is too strong of a word," he deadpanned.

Silence fell over them again and Sara knew what was coming before Grissom even asked.

"What about your family?"

Sara froze. She wasn't sure she could answer him even though he already knew the basics of her history.

"Grissom, I-"

He shook his head, squeezing her hand a little harder, "It's all right, Sara, you don't have to tell me."

She smiled at him, tears threatening to fall again, "It's okay, I want to tell you, just-," she glanced around the restaurant, "-not here."

He nodded then, "I understand. Would you like to come back to my place, have some coffee, we can talk?"

Sara smiled, a little shocked at the offer, but pleasantly surprised.

"I'd like that."

Grissom had taken care of the bill, just as she had expected him to, and he'd led her to the car, giving her his keys; he'd had wine with dinner, she'd had water. They drove toward his house, the only conversation they carried was Grissom giving her directions. She'd never been to the townhouse on her own so he assumed she wouldn't know how to get their. She knew the way like the back of her hand because she'd driven to his house so often to tell him she was leaving only to park outside and cry. He didn't need to know that.

When they arrived at his house, he'd made it a point to give her a short tour of the small, stark space he called home. That was the first thing that Sara had noticed, the bareness of the place. She had climbed onto his small couch, pulling her legs up under herself while he went into the kitchen to get there coffee.

"So you want to know about my family?" she asked then, only because she needed to distract herself.

An affirmative noise came from the kitchen and she smiled sadly, trying to decide where to begin.

"My father was an alcoholic. A serious alcoholic, worse than anyone I've ever seen, but I guess that makes sense because I lived with him," she was babbling, "I felt the effects of the addiction. I remember him before he started drinking, before he lost his job, before my mother started cheating on him. I remember what my father was like when he loved me."

Grissom handed her a cup of coffee and sat close to her on the couch, sensing that she may need him at some point in this retelling of her tragedy.

"I grew up in California, Tamales Bay to be exact. It's a small coastal, beach-resort, community. A lot of tourism in the summer, and nothing during the winter. When I was little, my parents ran a bed and breakfast, and it was a pretty successful one. We were always booked during the season, and that was enough to help us make it through the winter. But my dad was a mechanic on the side, working at a garage that my uncle owned. We had it pretty good for a while."

Her voice was low and she rushed on at times, but Grissom sat beside her, sipping his coffee slowly, using his free hand to caress her arm or her bare knee where it lay beside him on the couch. His touch was comforting.

"Around the time I turned nine, some hotel chain decided it was going to take over Tamales Bay and business started to decline. The B and B barely had anyone during the season and my father lost his job when my uncle had to close his shop. That's when it started, the drinking. The first time he hit me-"

She broke then, literally falling apart beside him and he couldn't do anything but pull her into his arms.

"Shh, honey, it's okay," he said into her ear, "You don't have to tell me. I know, honey, I know."

Sara sobbed for a few minutes, feeling very overwhelmed at both the fact that memories of her father were flooding her and the fact that Gil Grissom was holding her. Her arms went around him and she rested her face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in. She had stopped crying now and a different feeling had replaced the pain. Something she hadn't felt in a long time. Something she never thought she could feel again. Want. Lust. Need. Damn it, she needed him.

"Grissom," she breathed, pressing a soft kiss to his exposed throat.

His grip tightened around her and she felt him shudder slightly in her arms. She pressed more kisses to his neck, moving up his jawline, hovering near his lips, but not kissing him just yet. She looked into his eyes- expecting to find him hesitant- relishing in the lust that burned there.

"I want you," she muttered, not thinking, just feeling it.

Her mouth dropped on his greedily and when he opened his mouth for her, she slipped her tongue in and tasted all of him. God he tasted good, like red wine and basil, and her heart thudded roughly in her chest. She wanted him, all of him. She wanted to touch him, taste him, feel him inside of her. And she had never wanted anything more in her life.

Grissom's hands were on her back, sliding over her the smooth material of her dress, bunching it up in his fists as desire coursed through him. She felt so good there in his arms and he was suddenly wondering why the hell he hadn't done this years ago. Sara Sidle was his, she always had been, he had just been too stupid to do anything about it.

"Sara, honey, wait," he pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against hers and panting heavily, "Do you really want this?"

She nodded, pecking his lips, his eyelids, anywhere her lips could reach, "Please, Gil, please."

He couldn't argue with her. He wanted her so damn bad and the sound of her voice, heavy with love and lust, sent the blood rushing straight to his groin. Damn it, he needed her.

Somehow, through rough long kisses, they managed to make it safely to his bedroom where he backed her knees against the bed and fell on top of her.

Morning light filtered through the curtains. Things had certainly changed. They were closer now than they had ever been, literally. Sara was drapped across his chest, half asleep, making lazy circles with the tip of her finger. He mimicked her movements on her bare back, staring at the ceiling with a hundred thoughts running through his head.

"Gil?"

It was still somewhat odd, hearing his given name coming from Sara's mouth, but he knew it wouldn't take much to get used to it.

"Hmm?"

"I-I don't usual behave that way."

She lifted her head and the look on his face was one of confusion. She smiled faintly and shrugged, blushing, "I mean… I don't have sex on the first date."

And he laughed and kissed her head.

"I love you, Sara."

She froze.

"What?"

He swallowed hard, "I-I love you."

She cried.


End file.
